


Shopping with Castiel

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 19:10:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1754889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean takes Castiel shopping, and the tension is just too much to handle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shopping with Castiel

**PART 1**

Dean and Cas are at a Sears in Columbus. Dean is really tired of Cas borrowing his clothes, not because it’s an inconvenience, but because goddammit, Cas looks better in them than Dean does. 

And Dean will have none of that.

So he urges Castiel to find his own style, his own way of dressing that expresses the maniac, stodgy tax accountant ex-angel that he is. Neutral colors and worn jeans and rolled-up sleeves are Dean’s thing. Too-short flannel over-shirts and v-neck t-shirts and Big ‘n Tall sale-rack jeans are Sasquatch’s-aka-Sam’s thing. 

Dean is really curious to find out what Cas’s thing is.

"What about this?" Dean asks, holding up a soft cotton, heather gray t-shirt with a generic college logo on it.

Cas flips through shirts in the men’s sales rack, looks up, and shakes his head.

Dean sighs and puts the shirt back. He finds a long-sleeved, black-and-gray striped polo shirt. “This?”

Cas looks up again at the shirt and does not hesitate to give Dean the “are you fucking kidding me” bitchface.

Sammy is so much better at this shit than Dean is, Dean thinks. This is what Dean imagines it’s like to take a pre-teen girl shopping. 

"What?" Dean asks, putting the shirt back and flipping through the shirts next to it. He adds, absently, "I think you would look handsome in it."

Cas is standing across from him on the other side of the rack, and Dean can feel those icy blue eyes boring into him from afar. He looks up at Cas, who has his head tilted and his eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”

Dean looks up at him, eyes darting around the room. “I said you would look handsome in it.”

"Handsome," Cas repeats, as though he had never heard the word before.

Dean’s face flushes and he is super pissed about it. He immediately shifts his gaze back to the clothes, sliding each shirt to the right, not paying any attention to what he’s looking at but pretending to anyway.

Suddenly Cas is standing next to him, as always a bit too much into Dean’s personal space.

Dean can’t help but look at him, hand still idling on a shirt hanger. Cas is standing so close that Dean has to cross his eyes a little to see him clearly. As always, it doesn’t even cross Dean’s mind to step away. As always, when Dean has the misfortune of being honest with himself, he kind of actually sort of leans into the little invisible personal bubble that he and Cas have this tendency to make together.

And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t need to stop that annoying fucking thing of staring at Cas’s lips too goddamn much. Beautiful, slightly parted pink motherfuckers that they are.

Cas’s eyes are still narrowed at Dean, searching him for some kind of answer. “You think I’m… handsome,” he says, voice low. It’s not a question.

Dean clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck. “Well, I mean, yeah, I guess. In a totally objective, no-homo kinda way. You got the blue eyes, crazy hair, stubble thing going on and chicks totally dig that. And, you know, the… voice thing and whatever,” Dean rambles, suddenly nervous.

Cas makes a “hmm” noise with his throat and, without taking his intent, narrowed eyes from Dean, reaches to the side and grabs the striped polo shirt from the rack.

***

**PART 2**

Dean sits on a bench in the fitting room while Castiel tries on the clothes they picked out for him, playing 2048 on his phone and doing everything he can to not visualize Cas undressing mere feet away.

The first outfit Cas walks out wearing is a simple pair of jeans and a green t-shirt. 

He looks expectantly to Dean, who takes the opportunity to look Cas up and down. It feels kind of…  _good_  to be able to rove his eyes up and down Cas’s body for a good reason for once in his sad fucking life.

Dean gives Cas a thumbs up, trying to keep a straight, manly face. Somehow. 

"My arms are cold," Cas tells him.

"Dude, it’s August. Put on an over-shirt or something."

Cas pads back into the dressing room and puts on a cream-colored linen overshirt with the sleeves already rolled up.

 _Damn_ , Dean thinks.  _No wonder chicks dig rolled-up sleeves._

Dean gives him another thumbs up.

"Dean, I’m going to need more than your thumb to be satisfied," Cas tells him, stern.

Dean chokes on air.

"What?" Cas asks.

"Dude… just… nevermind. Go try on the next damn outfit."

Dean goes back to 2048 and slides the numbers around with much more force than is strictly necessary in a vain attempt to dismiss the brand new, graphic images that flood his brain in addition to knowing that goddamn Castiel is naked almost within arm’s fucking reach of him.

Dean has the genuine misfortune of taking a sip of his water bottle when Cas walks out of the dressing room again.

"I can’t tell if these pants fit correctly," Cas says, twisting around to try and look at his own ass.

He’s not wearing a shirt.

Cas is wearing a pair of skinny jeans and, Dean guesses, given how far they ride down on his hips, nothing else.

Dean spits out his water.

"What?" Cas asks again, genuinely bewildered.

Dean has no answer to that question. Somewhere in the midst of things, he has managed to swallow his own tongue and now all he can do is stare, unblinking, at Cas’s disgustingly chiseled chest and, because the dude is still fucking checking out his own behind, his perfectly round ass too.

When Dean looks back up to Cas’s face, Dean’s own face feeling like it’s been set completely aflame, he thinks he sees the corners of Castiel’s mouth turn up slightly. 

That motherfucker knows  _exactly_  what he’s doing to Dean.

Time for some payback.

***

**PART 3**

When Castiel exits the dressing room wearing his own (Dean’s) clothes and puts the items he doesn’t want on the rack to be put away, Dean is nowhere to be found. He has the clothes he wants to purchase - two dress-shirts, a few t-shirts, two pairs of jeans, a pair of slacks, and that hideous polo shirt Dean seemed to have admired - draped over his arm.

"Dean?" Cas asks into the empty dressing room lounge.

"Right here," Dean calls from two stalls down.

Cas furrows his brow. “I’ve picked out a few items. I’m ready to go now.”

"Sure thing," Dean replies from within the stall. "I got a favor to ask though."

Castiel approaches the stall Dean is in, and underneath the door, Cas can see Dean’s bare feet, stepping around the small space. “Of course.”

Suddenly, Dean throws open the door and leans against the doorjamb, arm pressed against it above him, and hip jutted out to the side.

With a smirk on his face, Dean asks, “I was thinking about taking up swimming. Thoughts?”

Castiel blinks, unable to respond.

Dean Winchester, who keeps every inch of his skin covered in worn flannel and khaki and denim every minute of every day, is wearing what Castiel understands to be a…

_Not fair. Not even fair, Dean._

…Speedo.

A small, black, tight Speedo.

And nothing else.

Castiel drops all the clothes he’s holding and also his jaw.

Cas is furious with Dean for being such a vindictive buffoon. A sexy, muscular, green-eyed, perfectly-flawed-yet-perfect vindictive buffoon. 

And Castiel is completely  _fed up_  with their games.

Dean steps away from the door and turns around to face the mirror and admire himself. He flexes his chiseled abs and shoulders, then turns around to check out his ass. “So what do you think?”

Cas looks to his left, and then to his right. The rooms are completely deserted. 

He enters the dressing room, crowding Dean’s space, and presses his palm to Dean’s bare chest, pushing him against a wall and swiftly slamming the dressing room door shut behind him.

Dean grins at him, and rumbles, “Finally,  _g_ _oddamn,”_ before bunching up Cas’s shirt in his fists and dragging him in for a searing kiss.

Castiel often has difficulty following his new-found human instincts, but when it comes to kissing Dean Winchester and pressing their bodies together so that Cas can feel every blessed inch of skin that Dean is currently exposing, Cas feels evolution at work.

There is no over-thinking it, like Cas is often wont to do, as Dean pulls at the hem of Cas’s (Dean’s) shirt and slides it over his head. There is no wondering if what he’s doing is right or wrong as he unbuttons his (Dean’s) jeans and slides them off of himself along with his shoes and socks, briefly breaking their kiss just to slowly come back up Dean’s body and press his face into Dean’s neck, sucking and nibbling at his soft, warm skin that Castiel has wanted to touch for so long. There are no words needed, except for Dean’s quiet moans of “Cas” and “ _oh god_ " and "god _damn,”_ the blasphemy of which would normally bother Castiel if his higher mental faculties had not been completely overridden with the concept of sheer  _want_.

Want is what flows through his veins as Cas lowers his head to Dean’s chest, wrapping his lips around a nipple and biting down just hard enough that Dean gasps. Want is what fires in his brain in place of neurons as he shoves his hand down Dean’s (the store’s) Speedo and takes his cock in his hand, jerking it loosely and spreading the astonishing amount of pre-cum over it so that it’s slick with the evidence of how much Dean wants this too. Want is what is etched onto his soul with Dean’s name as Dean threads his fingers through Cas’s hair, panting, and pulling Cas up to kiss him again, a tangle of tongues and moans and gasping adoration.

Dean reaches into Castiel’s boxers and wraps his fingers around his cock, throbbing with the ache of needing friction. Dean provides it and pumps furiously until lining their dicks together and grasping both of them in hand. 

Castiel removes his hand from Dean and presses it against a wall, steadying himself. 

As Dean jerks them together, he whispers sweet non-words to Castiel, love poems of his ever-present affection as he presses kisses to Cas’s lips which are parted and panting onto Dean’s.

A burning hot coil of pressure begins to build in his abdomen and he groans, voice so wrecked that it sounds more like a heavy object being dragged across gravel than a word,  _"Dean…"_

"Don’t worry, baby, I got you. Come for me, baby, come on…" Dean growls. 

His voice is everywhere. His hands are everywhere. He is everywhere. At this moment, Dean is Castiel’s whole world, and the only world Cas could ever want to live in. 

Cas’s hips shudder erratically into Dean’s fist.

Dean’s thrusts in time are jagged also as he rumbles in Cas’s ear, “You’re so fucking sexy, Cas. Come on, Cas, come for me…”

Castiel’s breath gets caught in his throat as he comes, choking back a violent sob of relief. White hot streaks coat his stomach and Dean’s, and Dean’s fist is slick with it as Dean finally comes so hard that he has to bite down on Cas’s neck to stifle a moan. Cas can feel his release, the tension from his muscles flooding out of him, the shudder he makes when he finally rides out the last wave of his orgasm and slumps back against the wall.

Dean rests his head against Cas’s shoulder, breathless, and Cas gulps in air, grasping onto Dean for dear life lest his knees completely give out.

"Excuse me?" a polite voice calls from outside the door. "Is everything okay in there?"

Dean lifts his head and straightens his posture, clearing his throat. “Yeah. Just, uhh… showing my boyfriend a few outfits.”

"Oh, uh… okay," the voice replies. "You really shouldn’t have someone in there with you though. Store policy."

"Sorry about that. We’ll be right out."

Cas grins at Dean and mouths the question, “Boyfriend?”

Dean shrugs, palms up, and Cas reads it to mean, “ _If you want to be?_ ”

Castiel nods and leans in to kiss Dean one more time, chaste and warm and wonderful, before reluctantly getting dressed and, as Dean would say, “high-tailing it the hell out of there.”

Before leaving, Cas grabs up the ugly striped polo shirt with one hand, and takes Dean’s hand with his other, threading their fingers together as they exit the store.

Shopping is now Castiel’s new favorite part of being human.


End file.
